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Lumine hated heats.
Scorching flames seared in every corner of her entire body, pouring through her veins like the molten sun itself, burning from the inside out in suffocating waves. Every few seconds, an agony unlike any other swirled in her abdomen, making her want for nothing more than to curl in on herself and wish the pain away – or, better yet, stop existing entirely, just so it’d leave her alone.
She wouldn’t be here of all places, the very last place she wanted to be, if she wasn’t absolutely desperate and at her wit’s end.
She should have been more careful. She knew she should have been, yet here she was, one arm wrapped around her stomach in a feeble essay to keep herself together like loose puzzle pieces while the other pressed harshly against the wall in front of her, struggling to keep her upright and stable. Her knees threatened to buckle at any second, calves trembling with the strain they were under. Her body felt a dozen times heavier than normal, the muscles in her legs burning almost as badly as the rest of herself just to keep her on her feet. Every breath she had to fight to gain, let alone maintain, and honestly who designed people like this? What a cruel joke. She had plenty of words to share with whatever bastard did this to her.
Unfortunately for her, they never showed their face, and indolence was a plague she’d caught long ago, meaning she had plenty of close calls like this one when she was just a little too lazy about getting her suppressants refilled on time.
This one call just ended up being dropped.
So, that brought her to today, cunt-deep in perhaps the worst heat of her life (a common complaint of hers whenever she had heats between suppressants – each one felt worse than the last), standing on the doorstep of the one person she hated the most as she was fighting between attempting to end her suffering, or just leaving to succumb to it rather than face him . Or, worse, face him and get rejected . But making her way here alone was a challenge, she had no idea if she'd make it back alive if she tried to leave.
How many times now had she raised her hand to the door, only to drop it back down to her side?
Gods, she really didn’t want to be here.
Every breeze that dragged against her skin, no matter how soft, felt like sandpaper to her tender body. Every whisper from the leaves grated on her ears, unbearably loud and leaving an obnoxious ringing tone in her hearing. She’d throw the glass windchime hung above the porch as far as she could if she had the wherewithal for it.
The flutter of loose petals that dared to brush her cheeks like feathers cut like knives instead, their sweet scent that she loved so much now nauseating and stifling. The textured surface of the wall under her fingers ached into the very bones of her arms, her entire existence way too sensitive to handle anything. Oh, how she longed to be in the safety of her home, cocooned and swaddled in countless blankets with a stiff pillow to rut against, even though she knew it'd bring her nothing but misery.
Anything was better than this.
Fuck it, she was just going to deal with it on her own. Surely it wouldn’t kill her, right? She’d gone through plenty of heats without a mate before and survived, she could do it again, especially in the prospect of dealing with him . Heats after using suppressants for so long were always abhorrent (not to mention the health problems caused by prolonged usage of said suppressants), but she was Lumine, for fuck’s sake. There wasn't a thing she couldn’t handle, much less this.
Just as she got ready to turn and drag her sorry ass back home, however, the door opened. She immediately scowled by force of habit when the disgustingly pretty face of her archenemy appeared behind it. His own lip curled into a sneer as he folded his arms and leaned sideways against the doorframe, glaring at her with unrestrained disdain. Lilac eyes flickered between her caramel stare, squinted under furrowed brows as he tried to dissect her for what wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. She should have left sooner. Or not come here at all. Seeing his unjustly beautiful mug slapped her full force in the face with a red flag that screamed 'this was a mistake!'
Too bad she was a flagpole.
“How long are you just gonna stand outside of my door like a creep? What do you want,” Scaramouche deadpanned, not bothering to hide his irritation.
Lumine barely withheld her snarl as she forced herself to stand up straight, the sheen of sweat, her panting breath, and trembling hands betraying her forced facade of sangfroid and aloofness. She could deal with that humiliation later. For now, she needed to get away. “I don’t need anything from–”
Her words caught in her throat, replaced with a croaked cry from the Abyss itself. Her arms circled tightly around her midsection and her legs finally gave out under her, causing her to drop to her knees. A new wave of heat, growing exponentially in temperature and pain, made the hairs all over her body stand on end. The Almighty Lumine, felled to her knees in front of the guy she hated more than she had the words to express, not by the man himself, but by her own godsforsaken nature.
Wonderful. Exactly what she needed.
His nose wrinkled as he stared down at her crumpled form, confusion evident in his expression and the poison lacing his words. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Lumine growled deeply, forcing deep breaths into her system that did very little in actually alleviating her physical symptoms. She planted her hands onto the ground, her elbows shaking as she got ready to shove herself back onto her feet. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m leav– agh! ”
Of course, the gods couldn't resist playing sick jokes on her now as her entire chest tightened, sharp agony piercing through her front, preventing her from doing anything but being pathetic. Ugh, she felt queasy, fatigued, lethargic, and like she was suffering from heat stroke all at once, but worst of all, she felt aroused . Painfully, sinfully, shamefully aroused beyond belief, especially as a slight gust of air caught his scent and punched it directly into her gut.
Lumine barely managed to fend off the moan that threatened to spell her demise just from a hint of his exhilarating presence. Slick that never seemed to stop forming stuck to her thighs and her insides clenched around empty air, filling her with a sense of disparity and travail.
She just had to be a fucking omega.
Already, the incessant and annoying croons of the cursed genetics in her were twirling around her head like dizzying birds and stars, moaning desperately, ready to whore out to the call of alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha–
SHUT UP.
The blonde swallowed thickly, avoiding looking at him or in his general direction for as long as possible to garner as much time as she could to pull herself together and keep her composure. Whistled breaths were sucked through clenched teeth, jaw wound so tightly it ached, though that soreness paled vastly in comparison to the cramps rife within her womb.
Her clothes were too tight, too hot, too stifling – there were too many to begin with, even though she wore zilch beneath her dress. Anything more and she would've died mid trip to his place. The sun bearing on her back felt like it was going to fry her skin to a crisp, his scent alone was sending her into a frenzy. She wanted more than anything to strip naked, bury herself into the depths of a Snezhnayan winter, and get her brains fucked out right then and there until there were no thoughts aside from being bred full left. Really, she should just get up, bid the violet-haired fucker adieu with her middle finger, and seek out the first two options. Maybe even the third, if fate decided to suddenly become benevolent.
If only she could just get off her fucking knees.
The absolute last thing she desired, or even needed, was to be groveling like a street dog under the bastard’s heel. Her throat felt sticky and dry, his scent (which fucking divine being decided it’d be funny to make him smell so fucking good?) lingered in the back of her nose, clinging to her senses like tacky glue that wouldn't come off no matter how hard she scrubbed. Her neck and wrists itched, irritated glands practically pouring her heat-induced pheromones out like a damn waterfall for all to bathe in.
She did, at the very least, have one thing going for her. How blessed she was that he was upwind from her, sparing her the embarrassment of having him catch her scent–
The breeze changed directions. She had about two seconds to curse every single god in Teyvat, dead and alive, before realization struck him like a whip.
He let out a choked sort of laugh. "You're fucking kidding me."
Welp. Cat’s out of the bag now, she supposed. To hell with her dignity.
Her voice came as little more than a whimper, meek and piteous. She liked to think she did that on purpose, and not because she was meek and piteous. Tears rimmed her waterline as she finally met his striking gaze, amethyst eyes creased in disbelieving amusement. "Please, I– I didn't know where else to go. Please, Scara, it hurts ."
Her chest twisted with shame and rue, but she was well and fully on her last leg. She was, for true lack of a better word, desperate. To the point of going to Scaramouche of all people – if only because she knew he wouldn't mark her. They despised one another, the last thing he would want would be to claim her and tie them together forever, just like her. She was certain of it, or else she wouldn't have come at all…sure, that was the reason why she was salivating and begging for him like a mutt.
Something in his eyes glinted, something she didn't quite notice; a catch of the light flashing over aconite.
Her watery sunflower gaze followed him as he crouched down in front of her, his ordinarily present face of repulsion replaced by something soft and unfamiliar. His hand felt both sweltering and intensely cooling as he clasped hers in it, the other lifting to caress her jaw.
“Oh, Lumine…” A shudder ran unbidden up her spine as he grazed her cheek with the back of his knuckles in a featherlight touch, her eyes fluttering shut when he gently twined his fingers through her pale-gold hair. His voice, quiet and velvety, carried a new wave of arousal to her from head to toe.
That was, until he grabbed her hair unforgivingly and yanked , a gasp ripping from her throat at the unexpected tearing sting that ran across her scalp.
His eyes, those endless pools of wisteria blossoms she would never admit she ashamedly yearned to drown in, were almost manic with glee, reveling in her chagrin and shock. “You’ll have to beg a little harder than that .”
Really, this wasn’t unexpected, but it still sucked as much as she imagined it would. Penitence and regret unfurled, cold and heavy and sickening. She should have just sucked it up and spent the next week or so under a million blankets while suckling pitifully on a popsicle to keep her temperature as low as she could manage.
It was true she didn’t have anyone else to go to.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t bluff.
“Fine,” she panted, glaring up at him with one eye squeezed shut to fend off the pain. Her lips curled into a tight, humourless grin, taunting him. “If you won’t help me, I’ll just find someone else who will.”
The rapid shift in his expression – from jeering and sardonic to suddenly dark and haunting – was like whiplash. It ignited a small spark of fear in her mind, a trepidation she hadn’t felt before, especially not around Scaramouche. The air around him seemed to turn frigid, goosebumps prickling all over her body from the abrupt chill. She was so desperate to get rid of the boiling sensation behind her skin earlier, yet now she missed it. Bells began ringing in the back of her mind with a tune she’d never heard before, warning her of imminent danger.
“Oh,” his mien was unnaturally blank save for his wide eyes as he stared down at her, the minute hitch at the corners of his lips nothing resemblant of a smile, “so that’s how it is.”
Before she could register his actions, much less react, the back of her skull met the ground behind her, the throbbing jolt replaced by panic as he wrapped his fist around her throat and squeezed . He hovered above her, the silk curtain of his raven hair tickling her cheeks as he leaned closer until the tip of his nose was only millimeters from hers.
“If it’s games you want to play,” he chuckled, a joyless sound, “wouldn’t it be so fun if I claimed you? Chained you to me forever?”
Lumine’s breaths came in short, frantic wheezes, her heart pounding rapidly in her windpipe, making it even harder to catch a proper inhale under the tightness of his grasp. He wouldn’t– he wouldn’t claim her. He couldn’t. He himself said he’d rather die than have anything to do with her. This just had to be another empty threat, an unfunny jab or something. It had to be.
It took a few moments for his barbed smirk to soften into something warmer and teasing. “Relax~” Scaramouche cooed at her and lifted the pressure from her neck, his thumb sliding over her trembling bottom lip. He cupped the back of her neck and helped her sit up, straddling her thighs. “You know I could never hurt you.”
Still stunned and unsure of the relief she felt, wary of the possibility that this, too, was just an act to lure her into his trap, she could only sniffle and take heavy gulps to clear her throat, watching his actions with caution. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing from her palm to the inside of her wrist affectionately, taking in her scent. She had always smelled so sweet, as much as he detested the effect it had on him. Honeysuckles and something addictingly foreign. Now that she was under him and he could unabashedly indulge to his heart’s content, who was he to say no? She had, quite literally, begged him to.
He was a benevolent god, after all.
She shook beneath him, muscles jittery with adrenaline, lech, and ardor affecting her senses, her mind being torn two different ways. The coy look on his face told her that he was enjoying himself immensely, to her derision. With a nervous motion she tried to hide, she shifted closer to his shoulder and risked a small sniff. The undiluted taste of prickling sakura petals, black cherries, and his aftershave spread over her tongue, drawing an unconscious moan from her.
She could detect the faint notes of the bitter matcha tea on his breath as he nudged her chin with his nose, encouraging her to tilt her head and bare her neck to him. Instincts mixed, flitting emotions of desire and apprehension fighting for first place under her sternum when he got too close to her glands, but when he blew so softly on her delicate skin, she was helpless.
Lumine couldn’t stop the shiver and whimper that escaped her when his tongue darted out and swept up the smooth column of her throat, even if she wanted to. He lapped at the vulnerable nerves of her glands, chuckling at her surprised yelp when he just barely pressed his fangs against it. How sweet she tasted, the emulsion of her enticing pheromones and sweat heavenly to him.
“Pl– p-please,” she whined, a crystalline tear slipping from the corner of her eye and over her flushed cheek. “Please, just make the pain go away.”
“Poor thing,” he crooned in a voice that left her questioning his sincerity. His fingers threaded through the short tresses at the back of her head, guiding her to the crook of his neck. It took her a moment, but when the new potency of his scent invaded her cognizance, she melted into him and mouthed at his throat, disgruntled by his turtleneck being in the way. He simpered at her reaction, pleased by the quiver and small noise she let out when he scratched at her scalp. “There you go, good girl.”
It was almost comical, the way his praise immediately heightened the tempting fragrance emanating from her nearly tenfold. Too suddenly, though, he began shifting himself off her body, drawing a frightened protest from her, her fingers clutching at his arms.
Scaramouche rolled his eyes. “I’m not about to fuck you in the middle of the street, Lumine.”
“...Oh,” her cheeks blazed and she pointedly looked away, unsure if she was flushed from her heat or from embarrassment. To her gaining chagrin, he snickered at her. He knelt beside her, and she was expecting him to at least offer her a hand up, rather than scoop his arms around her waist and under her knees and hoist her up like she weighed no heavier than a flower. “H-Hey! I can walk by myself!”
“Sure you can,” he agreed sardonically. “That’s why you collapsed on my doorstep like a newborn kit, right?”
Lumine scowled but didn’t argue further as he walked past the door and kicked it shut behind them with little care, letting him carry her through his home and towards his room while she tried to nab more sneaky sniffs of him. His hair, the smell of his shampoo fresh on it, dark locks deceptively silky and soft as they grazed her cheek when she leaned just a smidge closer. The faint traces of detergent on his dark collar that kept her separated from what she craved for. If her glare could set things alight, she would have burned that wretched shirt clean off ages ago.
The cynical list of his lips told her she was far from successful in her subtlety, but as she was plunged into the rich atmosphere of his room, she found herself caring less and less. Everything in his room screamed his name, from the decor to the bedding to the curtains, and all of it was doused densely in his particular musk. Her mouth watered, and she recoiled. No, not now, not here. Not in his company.
She wasn’t giving into her subconscious desires, the intrusive thoughts that had always lingered in the back of her mind. It was shameful how many times she had caught herself thoughtlessly craving him, haled like a bee to nectar. She was here for a single purpose. Once they were done, she’d be on her merry way, overstock on suppressants, and pretend this never happened.
With little fanfare, he held his arms away from his body, taking her away from where his aroma was strongest, then dropped her onto his bed with a whump , not giving her a chance to complain.
She barely managed to right herself before he was crawling over her, his waist settling between her legs and his arms pressing into the cushioning at her hips, caging her in under him. His aura enveloped her, dominating, a line writ clearly that spelled out that he was in control.
Her gaze flickered to his lips when she caught the movement of his tongue darting out to wet them, her own automatically mimicking the action. He canted his head to the side, leaning into her, and she resisted the urge to grab his hair and mash their mouths together already. No, she had to stay strong and maintain her strength.
She wouldn’t give in to him so easily, even as his lips pressed so perfectly into hers and drew out a high keen, even as the dance of his fingertips over the bare skin of her thighs made blood rush past her ears and electricity tingle everywhere he touched. His lips slotted so well with hers, surprisingly soft and warm, and by the gods did they feel so good. Kissing him felt so thrilling , and she loathed that. Mentally, Lumine smacked her face, reminding herself that she needed to grab and keep control, to prove she was in the lead here.
She couldn’t afford to let herself slip into the involuntary reflex that had her longing to sink into the dark well forming in his eyes. She couldn’t succumb to his charms, to the way her body sought to meld with his.
Impatient as ever, Lumine clawed at the hem of his pants, his chuckle making her lour against his kiss. As if he had planned this, the moment her lips parted to scowl, Scaramouche dived in, shoving his tongue past her teeth to lap at her own. Unbidden, she mewled at the action, summoning an echoed growl from him in response. He kissed her as if he’d been starved of her touch for one eon too many. As if he'd been pining for her and, now that he had her beneath the bruising grip of his fingers digging into her hips and his lips gnashing against hers until they were sure to be red and puffy, he was determined to never let her slip from his grasp.
Seemingly dissatisfied with something, he retreated with an annoyed click of his cheek and hooked his thumb past her canines to keep her from closing her jaw. He glared at her tongue as if it had scorned him, his eyes narrowed and angered. “Damn this small fucking mouth,” he groused, spitting into it afterwards before he slammed his mouth back together with hers, not giving her a chance to react. She swallowed habitually, and if his rumble was anything to go by, he was pleased with the action.
She would never in a million years tell a soul how arousing it was to have her enemy spit into her mouth.
Kissing him felt both astoundingly pleasurable and incredibly sinful beyond measure, as if she'd turned her back on the light to let his darkness enshroud her whole, one tongue swipe at a time. But archons, how badly she craved . She yearned for the way he threatened to devour her, the way he forced his tongue down her throat, made her taste him and only him as he felt her up in turn.
But it wasn't enough. She hungered for more.
The fire in her veins burned brighter, sure to scar her from the inside out. He was so fucking close , but it just wasn't enough . She wasn’t one with him yet, and that left her distressed. She wanted – needed – his scent on her, needed his teeth digging into her pale skin, needed his cock buried within her until he had none left to give, needed him to quench the forsaken thirst that had her cunt squeezing around nothing and tears pricking in her eyes. She was so empty, she needed him to take care of her, to make the pain go away. It was too much, the ache in her hollow womb, the itch of her glands, the burn at the back of her nose as she greedily inhaled his scent like she depended on it to breathe at all.
With frustration, she bit his lower lip, her fangs just barely pinching into the kiss-swollen skin and causing him to pull back with a hiss. He grabbed at her throat, just under her jaw, and leered at her. The pink of his tongue swiped across where she nipped, tasting her spit and his blood. "Bitch."
Her mouth curled into a snarl and she tugged at his pants harder, glaring at him with all the glory of a woman in the deepest pits of her heat who was teetering dangerously on the edge of just tearing his clothes to shreds and fucking herself on him without his help at all until she was content. “Off.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” he barked and shoved her back onto the bed, hands grasping at the neckline of her blessedly light dress and tearing through the fibers with ease. Her breasts bounced free from the jarring movement, nipples pebbling under the drift of air against them.
She inhaled sharply at the unexpected exposure, goosebumps rising all across her front. No sooner than he rid her of her clothing had he freed his throbbing cock from the confines of his pants. As if attracted magnetically, golden eyes snapped onto the sight of his leaking dick and oh, by the archons, it was beautiful. Pearlescent precum beaded at the tip, catching the light like the glint of a precious jewel. It bowed upwards just so, the perfect curve that she knew would have her writhing and praying to whoever would listen to her throes of pleasure. The prominent vein at the underside had her gulping down excess spit, desires growing worse.
The underside of her tongue stung as saliva rushed to fill her mouth, the zeal to suck , to taste, to gag, to choke , nearly overwhelming her. It almost overshadowed her own need to be bred into stupidity. But, Abyss below, she wanted . What would he feel like on her tongue? What would he taste like? Would it even fit in her mouth? Would it even fit in her cunt?–
The spell was broken the moment Scaramouche snickered in her ear, much closer than she remembered him being moments before. “Like what you see?”
“You– n-no!” Lumine bit into her cheek until she was just an extra degree of pressure off from drawing copper in her abasement. “I hate you.”
“Oh, is that so?” He raised a brow as he leaned over her, nearly forehead-to-forehead. His fingers trailed so faintly over her stomach, she wasn’t even sure he was touching her at all to begin with, or if her body was presenting tactile hallucinations because she just wanted to feel something already–
A stifled breath lodged itself in her chest when his palm pressed firmly against her pussy, his middle and ring fingers easily slipping between her folds to rub against her almost embarrassingly wet heat.
“Because it really doesn’t seem like you hate me,” he cooed, sickly sweet, “begging me to fuck you, not even wearing underwear in the middle of your heat. Would you have bent over for anyone to rail you as soon as they caught your scent? Present yourself like a common whore?”
The small noise, something akin to a prey animal being bored down upon by a hunter – the pathetic twitters of a bird caught in the maw of a slavering cat – had to have come from someone else and not Lumine. From him , definitely. Absolutely not from her .
Yet he couldn’t cover his own groan as his face dropped to the crook of her neck, a noise that wasn't anything like the yip she let out, his midnight hair tickling her igneous skin.
The heady air of her arousal encompassed them, increasing in strength the more he toyed with her sensitive sex until his room was drowned in their mixed attars. The addicting honey that pooled in her cunt threatened to suffocate them both in her aphrodisia alone. It took everything in him to keep his poise and not bend her in half and breed her until she was sure to be round with his kin right then and there.
“So fucking wet already,” Scaramouche sneered as his digits circled her entrance, then effortlessly sank in right to the knuckle. She’d almost believe they’d been together for centuries with the way he hooked them inside her, striking the tender zone of nerves right at the top of her pussy on the first try. “Look at you, soaked for the man you supposedly hate. You like this, don’t you? Being degraded? Treated like a toy?”
Lumine sucked in air through her teeth and released a strained moan, a jolt of pleasure traveling up her legs to the center of her body. Despite her denial, his words darted directly into her core, making her clamp down on his fingers. “N-No–”
His hoarse laugh, raspy with burgeoning intoxication, rumbled against her shoulder. He leaned further onto her body, clipping her down as his hand set an unexpectedly quick pace, scissoring and abusing her hypersensitive spongy walls. Her tensing didn’t go unnoticed by him, his laugh quaking her. “Of course you do, slut. Don't lie to me, I can feel the way you clenched around my fingers."
“S-Scara,” she quivered, biting back moans.
“That’s it,” he husked, breath skimming against her ear. Pleasant flutters zipped up the back of her neck at how disheveled he was starting to sound. “Tell me again that you hate me.”
“I…I–” the girl choked out, sight blurring.
He made a dainty hum of acknowledgement, his movements slowing. “Hm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you.”
She tried to buck her hips into his hand, her fruitless attempt only making him laugh mutedly. She exhaled a heavy breath, vexation growing. “Scara, p- please …”
“Please…what?” He teased her, playing with her agonized pussy at a leisurely pace, only for his movements to halt. “Does it feel bad?” He clicked the roof of his mouth with mock concern, preparing to move back with the threat of leaving her high and dry. “I’ll stop then, wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
“No!” She cried out, panic laid thick in her voice, out of her control as she grasped his wrist to hold it in place. “No, please! D-Don’t! It– it…feels…good…” She trailed off, biting back tears of torment.
Within an instant, he rewarded her with a tempo that had glitters of white dancing in her awareness. “Good girl,” he purred, her mind preening at the praise. “See what a little honesty gets you?”
Any snark she might have had quickly fizzled away when he flicked his wrist harshly, winding the coil building within her stomach ever tighter. She could feel the cords becoming taut, squeezed into a tight bundle that trembled with pent up kinetic energy ready to detonate. She didn’t know if him knowing exactly how to push her to that precipice made it better or worse. Either way, it was sating her heat, if only minutely, so she couldn’t be bothered to question it.
She writhed under his hold, breaths hot and short, lost in the pleasure she’d never be able to give herself. Lumine could barely hear whatever he was muttering into her hair, her focus stuck completely on the way he pumped his fingers in and out of her sopping wet hole with squelching noises she would be embarrassed by on any other day.
He scissored them, stretching her open, then jutting them upwards over and over, sending her mind into a spiral. It felt so good , her body twitchy and responsive to his every motion.
Jitters crawled athwart her body, flax hair sticking to her skin in wisps, sweat adding a glimmer to her that caught the light like diamonds. She was so close, so damn close , her walls constricting around him in pulses, signaling her approach. More, just a little more, just a little more .
“Scara!” She sobbed, brows scrunched together, unsure of what exactly she was pleading for when she called out for him. “Please!”
He seemed to know her better than she knew herself at this point as his thumb found home on her clit, pressing into it roughly and rubbing it in a tight circle. The onyx-haired boy’s panting was just as heavy and drenched in lust as her own, the knot in her belly wound to its last inch. Her limbs trembled, muscles clinging to the last of their strength, seeking for something to ground her.
“Cum for me.”
With his scratchy command and the multiplied pleasure he enforced on her, Lumine burst at last, a silent cry trapped in her throat in the seconds she went rigid before finally coming undone with a wail. Her orgasm rolled over her, waves crashing upon her shores to wash everything out in a hazy shimmer of bright light. Scaramouche coaxed her through it with whispered nothings she couldn't hear past the ringing in her ears and gentle strokes until she settled, huffing and mellowing out from her cloud of momentary bliss.
A weak whine of despair escaped her throat when he pulled his hand away and spread his fingers apart to admire the sparkle of her gossamer slick as it frayed trim between them. She would have assumed he was disgusted by the sight if not for the way he salaciously and slowly slid his tongue against his digits, making sure she was watching him lave them clean.
Her taste had him shuddering and hissing with delight, eager for more, more, more . “Such a fucking slut. All mine.”
She pressed her lip between her teeth to hide the way a blush rushed up from her chest to the tips of her ears at the sight and from his words, though it did little if the predatory shine in his eyes was anything to go by.
In another circumstance, he'd hook her knees over his shoulders and scarf down her lush taste until he was drowning and she was begging for a reprieve he had no intention of giving, but right now, he had a job to do.
Leaning over her, he latched his mouth onto one of her nipples while he thumbed at the other, taking his sweet, infuriating time. The roiling temperature he had tamped down was beginning to ramp up again, quicker than she liked. Or maybe Scaramouche was just taking way too damn long, riling her up on purpose. Whatever the reason, her patience was zipping away fast. She stiffened with a hiss when he bit down on her nipple, just hard enough to encourage a flash of pain.
If she wasn't in heat, she would have loved to have him worshiping her as he was now, but she was a ticking timebomb, inching towards explosion. She didn’t know how much longer she could stay sane if he didn't start pounding her into dust within the next five seconds.
“What’s taking so long?” Lumine barked with a glower, brow furrowed as she watched Scaramouche suck her nipple harshly. “Quit teasing me!”
Oh, now she pissed him off.
His eye twitched with annoyance, a tick mark forming on his masseter as he released her breast from his maw with a loud pop. His hand shot out to grab fiercely at her jaw, pressing down on her cheeks to keep her gaze locked with his. “Shut up, bitch, ” he snapped at her, guiding his cock with his free hand until his tip nudged against her entrance. “Do you really think–”
With a single, swift movement, his hips slammed into her own, his girth stretching her out even further than his fingers had to make room for his heavy length as he bottomed out with a wet clap. Any of her further grievances were cut off by her scream, her head tossing back at the startling intrusion.
“–That you’re in any position to be making demands?” He smirked, sharp canines glinting, itching to break her skin. She looked so beautiful under him like this, mind swirling with nothing but thoughts of him and his dick, her skin shiny with the salt of sweat and spit, tears skirting the edges of her mesmerizing jasmine hues. “Know your place, filthy whore.”
He gave her no time to adjust, setting a merciless and punishing pace right from the gate. Everything else bled away – the stickiness glued to her limbs, the sultriness of her leaking, slippery eros spreading further down her thighs with each of his brutal thrusts. The sheets that felt like coarse grain became soft clouds, every bit of her buzzing with the pleasure he inflicted upon her. She felt like a primitive beast, reduced to this, and she welcomed it wholeheartedly. Each drive from his pelvis crumbled her cognition, wet sand grit under his fist.
"Fuck," he growled in her ear, teeth bared. "So fucking tight. "
Mindlessly, she arched her back, her legs wrapping around either side of his waist in a desolate bid to get impossibly closer. It was overwhelming; every brush and hammer of his cock against every aching corner in her cunt had her falling rapidly down the crest of a mountain, right to the edge of her demise.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he chastised her as soon as he caught onto her empty-headed motives, constraining her into stillness by harshly pinning her hips down. “You wanted this. Now, be a good girl, and just take it. ”
Her voice would undoubtedly be afflicted beyond use for the next few days with how he had her squirming to match his pace, screaming and chanting his name in a looped holy mantra. All that mattered to her now was that he was the promised rapture she had sought for so earnestly and found just out of reach. Now, she’d chase after that glow with all her might, illusion or not.
“So pretty,” his touting whispers lifted a layer of goosebumps along her spine and arms. "My pretty little cocksleeve, that’s what you are, aren’t you?” The burn of his hands grasping her wrists together and locking them above her head with one hand was a sting she revered. “What are you?”
Lumine panted, bleary topaz orbs struggling to see him clearly through her lust and pleasure fueled delirium. “I’m yours!”
“My what?” He listed his head to the side with a mocking look of innocence.
“Your pretty little cocksleeve!” She sobbed, straining to buck her hips under the rigid, unforgiving grip he had on one side of her waist.
“That’s my girl,” he purred, admiring the way she gave into the delicious sensations only he could give her. Nobody could make her feel this dulcet – have her babbling incoherent words and shoddily put together phrases that were hardly sentences at all. Nobody could have her mewling and praying to him and him alone. No, he was the only one who got to see her like this.
Blanketed in a mist of delight and exultation that panoplied her in the form of Scaramouche’s body above and within hers, she let every worry, every doubt, every bit of stress in her fade away. Her walls hugged his thickness tightly, fighting to keep him inside her, to never let him leave. She was in a garden of paradise, each fruit she bit into sweet and intoxicating.
His taste embedded itself on her synapses, a deafening flavour she was positive would never come off. The thought alone made her whimper with delight and joy, immensely pleased. She'd never wish for it to leave. She willed for it ingrained on her, cloaking her body in his presence wherever she went. She pined for this moment, these seconds that stilled the world around them into a haze of naught but their two souls, to never end.
He sucked and bit blooms of alluring red and violet into her breasts, her chest, collarbone, neck, anywhere and everywhere he could reach while paying special attention to the very things that brought all this on in the first place. She squealed as he collared onto one of her scent glands, treating it with crude and possessive kisses, licks, and nips. Her cunt would spasm around his cock whenever he grazed ivory teeth against the fragile skin, a thinly veiled omen that had her gasping and curving her spine into an elegant arc, pressing herself harder into him.
Scaramouche lifted himself up just enough to inspect her flushed skin, adorned with roses and thorns he left behind; see the way unshed tears sparkled and glittered in her pellucid eyes, how the corners of her mouth tugged into a dazed smile.
How gorgeous she was like this, fucked to her baser instincts.
“Beautiful…” He mumbled aloud, and Lumine’s heart bloomed.
With the way he drove into her, his nails digging moons into her skin from how tightly he held her wrists, eyes looking over every inch of her body he could see, she felt as though pleasure and lust were attacking her from every direction. They muddled her senses, filled her xiphoid and skull with cotton, and had her losing her inhibitions one by one like shot clay pigeons. Clouds of light surrounded her in heavenly comfort, the sun shining in stunning lines that rose above the horizon and painted the sky she resided in with shimmering shades of white, gold, and blue.
Her walls contracted around his length, causing him to grunt. Her voice came in wobbly huffs between loud moans, eyes squeezing shut tightly when the hurricane of another oncoming climax began racing towards her. “Please! Scara– Scara, please!”
"Please, what?" He chastised her. "Use your words, Lumine. I know you're not that dumb."
The blonde sobbed under him, her head tilting back to reveal the smooth expanse of the column of her throat with the encouraging nudge of his nose against her chin. “P-Please, please let me cum! Please!”
His chuckle vibrated against her neck, and she could feel the way his smile burned into her like a brand. “C’mon, you can beg better than that.”
“Please, please, please, I want t-to cum!” She wept, taking in greedy heaves of air. Breathless and pliant, she keened under him, trying to uselessly put her wishes into words she couldn't grasp onto. "I'll d-do anything! Breed me! Use me! Just let me cum, please!"
His cheeks lifted with a grin, dark eyes shading over and piercing into hers as they opened to fixate on him pleadingly. “Anything?”
“Anything!” She promised.
"Aww~" he crooned at her. "My sweet little pet. Well, I suppose you can, since you asked so nicely, mm?"
His hand trailed from the grip he had on her waist, one that was sure to bruise in the shape of his love, to now track a deceptively wispy path down her front, pausing just above her womb where he could faintly feel himself ruining her insides.
Fascination took hold, his mission momentarily forgotten as he laid his fingertips flat against the smoothness of her skin, side by side with one another, and pressed down.
Lumine took a deep, gasping breath and let out a cry, the added pressure pushing that spongy spot inside her down directly onto his cock, the head of it rubbing all the harder on the nerves lit up like live wire. A few more thrusts, and she was falling from her kingdom in the sky, the ribbons that kept her aloft unraveling with the slightest tug on their tangles. Her orgasm hit her far harder and faster than she expected, the space around her decanting into nothingness in bright flashes of light.
Scaramouche hissed as her pussy gripped him unyieldingly, spurring on his unabated hammering with newfound fire at her unintentional resistance. His own peak was quick approaching, and the grip her cunt had on him wasn’t helping in abating it in the slightest.
He freed her wrists in favour of bracing himself against the bed, hands nearly tearing into the sheets on either side of her head. With her absolutely spent and stuck in a stupor, wholly entranced by him, he focused fully on chasing his own high. She could feel the swelling beginning to form at the base of his length as it tugged slightly against her entrance, but her senses were far too overstimulated to worry about the consequences of him spilling himself inside her.
His breaths, searing and rough against her cheeks, turned staggered in tempo with his thrusts. The rhythmic wet clap of skin against skin became uneven, needing momentum to help steer him forward.
Thoughts ran rampant in his head, spinning images of her heavy and round with his child, of her stuffed full with his seed and knot, of a bright red mark on her throat in the shape of his own fangs. Years of unwanted obsession, days spent fighting the very same ideas that saturated his neurons now, right his fingertips for the taking. The silent and unknowing wishes wasted on stars that mocked him, the truth behind his disposition, could at last become reality.
Maybe it was a blessing, or his unconscious resolve being fulfilled. Or maybe it was just a divine coincidence that she came to him of all people, that she besought him and crawled on her knees, pleading that he liberate her from her torment.
Whatever it was, she was pliant, willing, and – most importantly – coveting. She found him . She wanted him . And it was so easy to tell from how well she took him – how she moaned every time he hit that spot inside her that only he could reach and stimulate, how she looked at him with starstruck eyes – that she wanted him beyond just being a quick lay to sate her heat.
No, he knew intuitively that she pined for him just as much as he pined for her. Hell, it was painfully obvious to him. Sure, they were both too proud to say it aloud, but why use words when teeth and claws left more lasting evidence of what resided in their hearts?
“I need you to listen to me, Lumine,” he called to her, smirking at her blissful, fucked out expression.
She whined in reply, barely able to form words with how ruthlessly he took her. In the gauzy lighting, with sweat and blush coating his skin and raven hairs sticking to the sides of his face, he looked angelic, even though she knew he was anything but. Hyacinthian hues called for her to worship them; worship the god that dominated her body, mind, and soul. His figure could only be one befitting of a god, one that complemented her own so perfectly. His expression spelled a wordless promise to her:
Pray for me on your knees, and I will give you everything you want.
And, like her, he took in her features; pinned down beneath him, hair splayed and knotted like a broken halo, eyes glistening with lust and adoration – apotheosis . She keened dreamily, lost in a utopia of their own creation, the feathers of her wings pulled and scattered around them. Bites, kisses, and bruises littered her body like flecked stars and scars, not a spot left unmarred by either his mouth or hands. To him, she was absolutely ethereal. She was the true angel between them.
His angel. The angel he towed by the tips of her wings from the heavens that laid permanently beyond this reach so she could fall right into his arms. If he couldn’t enter Elysium, he’d simply bring it to himself.
He released a hand from the death grip he had on the sheets from near her lovely face and patted her cheek with the kindness of a lover to bring her back from her reverie, waiting patiently until she was focused on him and could hear him clearly.
“You’re gonna to take my knot, and my mark. Understand?” Her head nodded, eager to agree to anything if it meant her salvation. He grinned wide, pearlescent fangs prophesying both their futures. The addicting chorus of victory began its climb to crescendo.
Oh, how he couldn’t wait to claim her.
“Now–” He gave her a particularly harsh thrust, the shock of pleasure it sent ricocheting inside her making her clamp down on him. He barely withheld his groan of ecstasy. “Who do you belong to?”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lumine could hear the last of her rationality screaming; feel it banging on the walls of its glass cage, warning her to get out, to not let him bite her, to not let him claim her. Anything and everything so long as his tongue never tasted the dizzying mix of her iron-rich ichor and pure pheromones.
But her heat was on the forefront of her brain, her nature practically preening under the promise of a mate – someone to breed her, to protect her, keep her happy and round with kits. It drowned out any and all other thoughts, leaving only the unbearable need to be filled and marked. She didn’t care about anything other than the reigning chant of mate mate mate mate mate! running wild in her mind.
“I’m yours, Alpha!” She sang, voice high and pleading. “Please, mark me!”
His lips curled into a joyous beam, something akin to tender fondness softening his bittersweet nightshade eyes. “What a good omega,” he teased lovingly as he coiled his fingers around the smooth expanse of her throat, appreciating how soft her skin was. How radiant – how ready it was for him to ruin .
Fingers pressed against her jaw to tilt her head to the side, exposing the source of the scent that drove him insane. Years spent cursing her for the maddening pheromones that called to him, invading his senses, forcing him to think of nothing and nobody but her. He couldn’t decide if her use of suppressants was a blessing or a condemnation – it spared him from the threat of his knees buckling under him when he was in her presence, gods forbid if he caught a breath of her pre-heat hormones, but then it stole the misty taste of her that he wished so dearly to chase and selfishly contain.
No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he wanted her for himself. He wanted to permanently imprint her unique fragrance onto the back of his pharynx. He wanted her under him, locked on his knot with his cum pumping her full. He wanted to be able to bite and take and claim her over and over whenever he so desired. He wanted her to only ever think of him, only ever see him.
The image flickering in his mind of her swelled and heavy with his kit sent a violent shudder shaking up his spine.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
He drew back from fruitlessly grinding against her entrance, having finally lost the last shred of his restraint. One final vicious shove of his hips forward let his knot pop into her and tie her to him at the same moment as his lips sealed around her scent gland, and he bit . The sensation of her skin giving and breaking under his sharp canines made him instinctively sink them in further with a deep groan of rhapsody. The purest rush of her intoxicating redolence mixed with the iron of her blood was all it took for the spiral in his core to burst.
Mine.
The blonde shrieked, pain and pleasure exploding behind her eyes in a firework of glitter and stardust. The flood of his claim on her unfolding within her forced another climax out of her, the walls of her cunt clenching down around his cock to milk him for all he was worth.
MINE.
Thick loads of cum filled her to the brim, and the veil of sheer, absolute bliss that fogged over her mind like a weighted blanket blinded her to all else. Celestia itself had lowered to the ground so she could rise above it, fireflies of rapture carrying her to the warmth of the sun as it bathed her in a brilliant, peaceful glow.
Uneven breaths took over in the calmness left behind by their voices falling quiet. She whined softly when he retracted his stinging bite, lapping at the wound to clean off any traces of blood that prickled from the mark he carved into her flesh and soothe the soreness. The small breaths and lingering moans she voiced did wonders for his ego, boosting it beyond its already tumescent size. He couldn’t help but admire it so approvingly – it looked perfect on her neck, elevating her beauty to that above a goddess tenfold.
Hypnotized, he slid a hand over the slight bump that formed at the base of her stomach and pressed down minutely. The added pressure against his cock, as minor as it was, pried a low groan from him and a high, whispery squeal from her. She grasped at his arm so weakly as he massaged his fingers into the spot that it could barely be called a hold at all.
Tired and fucked-out, she mumbled something slurred and incoherent about being too sensitive, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to stop his ministrations.
Pride swelled under his breast in the form of steady, strong heartbeats. She was his , in mind, spirit, and body now. She belonged to him and him alone, and if he didn’t already have his knot stuck in her, he’d ravage her again and again. He’d fill her past capacity and over, pumping himself into her until she couldn’t hold any more of his seed and it was sure to take.
The darling, beloved, goody-two-shoes girl he’d been spitefully pining after was now his, and there would never be enough words to describe how elated he felt. How he rejoiced in brushing her cheek with his knuckles and cooing sugar-sweet nothings while she purred and nuzzled into his touch so preciously.
And now, everybody would know that she was his .
Lumine kvelled in his hymns and compliments, her cheeks graced with a content warmth. “Such a good omega for me,” he stroked her cheekbone with his thumb and she sighed into his touch. “Taking your breeding so well. You were made for me.”
“Mmh…” She hummed, drowsiness pulling her under its cozy seas. “Scara…”
“Right here,” he reassured her in a tone she didn’t know he possessed, so loving and warmhearted, yet still bathed in. Nothing mattered; nothing beyond them and her blissfulness.
She was more than delighted to snuggle into his warmth as he carefully rolled them onto their sides, even sweaty and coated with their mutual wetness as they were. She mouthed lazily at his collarbone, humming in approval as he pulled the blanket over them. What would have been unbearable only an hour ago was now exactly what she needed. Comfort enveloped them, soul and body.
Somewhere, in the recesses of what remained of her psyche, a dread loomed. It weighed heavy, threatening to snap its chains and drench her in the ice of horror, to rip away the eden she found herself within. It played a melody her fingers twitched in an attempt to follow, yet she couldn’t quite remember the chords.
But when he held her like this, so fervently to his chest with his hand trailing down her back to trace soothing circles into her fragile skin, she couldn't bring herself to care about the voice wailing in distant screams, lachrymose and forlorn. It was faint; a forgotten echo that receded further and further into darkness. He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, murmuring doting devotedness and promises she couldn't completely process in her post-coital serenity. All she knew was that she was deeply, immeasurably happy. She was content to lay there for eternity, peaceful and sated.
"Rest," he whispered into the crown of her head as he kissed it with veneration. Already in the drift of sleep, fatigue beckoning her to fall into its warm grasp, his assurance soothed the last of her frayed nerves. His siren call to the glory of the dreams she’d find herself exploring tugged her forth to walk upon the surface of an oasis of love, and she’d willingly succumb to the depths. "I'll be here when you wake up."
She mumbled something against his clavicle, voice indecipherable to all but him. He knew her better than anybody, and now, with his claim flowing through her stratum right alongside her lifeblood, there was nothing she could hide from him. And, come morning, the sentiment would be returned. But that could wait. Her breaths evened out, soft purrs of euphoria emanating from her, and he smiled so affectionately. Such love and admiration, dulia and and cherishment – only for her.
"My darling mate," he crooned, wisteria eyes soft for the girl dozing in his arms. Right where she belonged; had always belonged, and will always belong. "My precious, stupid girl. Mine ."
––––•(-•ʚɞ•-)•––––
A hazy marigold eye opened slowly, weary and bleary as Lumine forced the dryness to go away. As her vision stabilized, her focus settled on the pair of lupine eyes that looked at her with such unfathomable love and devotion, it’d make anyone’s heart flutter and sparkle. And hers did, too. The devout affection in the dreamy curl of his lip and the soft set of his brows filled her with a warmth she hadn’t experienced before. One that spread from behind her breastbone to her fingertips, the arcadian murmurs of promised safety and happiness settling in her mind.
Only moments before panic struck with a force that nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
She shot upright onto her hip, her hand grasping at the right side of her neck. A pulse beat there with the pace of her quickening heart, skin tender and sore. Her pupils dilated from adrenaline as horror infected her core, her trembling fingertips seeking out the terrible evidence she so desperately wished wasn’t true – that this was just some heat-induced nightmare.
Her heart startled into skipping a beat as she brushed against the already healing wound that had been imparted on her very being, the truth she was so certain wouldn’t happen.
Tears welled in her glassy hues, her throat sticky, teeth itching to take what her instincts demanded of her, the reality that made copper rise up her palate.
He bit her.
The proof of his mark on her was scored into her neck, right where she couldn’t hide it by any realistic means. She could feel his bond wrapped tightly around her soul like a noose, warm hands with intertwined fingers presenting just slight enough gaps that she could see beyond the bars of the cage he imprisoned her within.
“N-No…”
Her voice came out choked, a broken wheeze in the sound of a girl whose dying grasp on the last of her hope was slipping.
Thick saline clogged her perception, suffocating her, her canary gaze pinned on amethyst hues as they flooded all she could see.
"Hey, hey," he shushed her gently, as he would a frightened little animal, and propped himself up on his elbow. His hand reached out to brush the backs of his fingers on the unmarked side of her neck. "You're okay. We're bound now, don't worry your pretty little head about anything. I'll take care of you."
As her tears finally slipped down her cheeks, giving into their weight, her arms dropped back down to rest on her lap, golden eyes lucent and crestfallen with red threatening to ring them. To her simultaneous relief and despair, his mellow tone and the sheer reverence he held towards her soothed her, enough for her hiccups to be nearly silent as she blinked at him despondently.
Even now, as she lamented and sought her muddy thoughts in hopes of coming up with a way to undo this, while corporeality hollowed her bones to take place within them, her canines ached to pinch a matching mark into his throat, right against the terrible thing that lead her to this timeline of truth.
She could fight against it all she wanted, but his vitality flowed right alongside her own now, souls tangled in unbreakable threads of crimson divinity. She could feel them deep inside her, the knots of red tied in deceptively dainty bows, never to be undone.
"You," he promised as he twined his fingers through her hair and admired the inflamed injury he inflicted on her, already imagining the scar it’d leave behind, "and our kit."